That mot with worse be wet for lat of other leȝe;
The bout and the barbet wyth frountel shule feȝe;
Habbe he a fauce filet, he halt hire hed heȝe,
to shewe
That heo be kud ant knewe
For strompet in rybaudes rewe.
Translation.—Lord, that givest us life, and regardest every people,—to ... with knife thou hast no need;—both man and woman sorely may dread,—lest thou be stern with wrath, for the boon that thou askedst,—in joy—that mankind—should shield themselves from sin.
Now pride hath the prize in every play;—of many unwise women I say my saw,—for if a lady’s linen is laid after law,—every strumpet that there is such draughts will draw;—in pride—every shrew will clothe herself,—though she have not a smock to hide her dirty tail.
First in bower were bosses brought,—to honour ladies I wot they were wrought;—every giglot will lour, unless she have them sought;—such shrew full sourly and dearly hath bought it;—in hell—with devils they shall dwell,—on account of the clogs which hang by their jowls.
Now they want no linen to bear bosses in;—they sit like a slit swine which hangs its ears.—Such a justling contrivance every wretch will wear,—that these giglots’ gear all comes to nothing;—on high—the devil may sit softly,—and hold his sabbaths often.